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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27855322">The Christmas Star!</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReesieReads/pseuds/ReesieReads'>ReesieReads</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Duckcember 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxious Louie Duck, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Canon Disabled Character, Caring Scrooge McDuck, Christmas, Cold Weather, Crying, Della Duck Has PTSD, Disabled Character, Duckcember, Duckcember 2020, Emotional Hurt, Everyone Needs A Hug, Family, Family Feels, Fever, Frostbite, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt, I Made Myself Cry, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Sorry, Navy Donald Duck, Older Sibling Huey Duck, Pain, Panic Attacks, Parent Della Duck, Parent Donald Duck, Physical hurt, Plane Crash, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scrooge McDuck Has Feelings, Sick Character, Starvation, Survival, Trauma, Uncle Scrooge McDuck, Wilderness Survival, greenie beanies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:47:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,202</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27855322</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReesieReads/pseuds/ReesieReads</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Scrooge decides to take the family out on a Christmas adventure to look for the fabled Christmas Star. Things don’t go according to plan though, and everyone is put into danger as they struggle to survive in the Lost Forest.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Della Duck &amp; Everyone, Dewey Duck &amp; Everyone, Donald Duck &amp; Everyone, Huey Duck &amp; Everyone, Launchpad McQuack &amp; Everyone, Louie Duck &amp; Everyone, Scrooge McDuck &amp; Everyone, Webby Vanderquack &amp; Everyone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Duckcember 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037025</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>88</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Crash Of The Lakeslayer!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Before reading this story, please read the tags. This isn’t a fluffy tale, and I don’t want to cause any unnecessary pain for my readers.</p><p>Also: This story is heavily based on the book Hatchet by Gary Paulson. I highly recommend reading it, it’s a wonderful book.</p><p>This story is also made for the Duckcember 2020 challenge on Tumblr!</p><p>Day Two: Blizzard</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“The Christmas Star!”</p>
<p>The eldest triplet nodded to his adoptee-sister, flipping his guidebook to page ninety. It was a week before Christmas, and Uncle Scrooge had decided to take the whole family out on a ‘Holiday Adventure’ for the fabled Christmas Star. </p>
<p>Beakley had stayed behind to take care of the house, but she allowed Webby to come with the rest of the Duck family (she was basically a part of it after all). Della had come along to ‘help Launchpad’ and had managed to drag Uncle Donald into coming along for the ride as well. Dewey had been eager to come for the adventure, and Huey wanted to get more notes and information about the Christmas Star, so it only followed that Louie would come along as well.</p>
<p>“What’s so special about some star?” The youngest triplet asked from his customary seat in the Sunchaser (Cloudslayer!). He didn’t bother looking up from his phone, which he was holding sideways thanks to the way his arms were pinned by all the seatbelts he was wearing. “I mean, can’t we just buy one of those cheap ones from the dollar store and be done with it?”</p>
<p>“The Christmas Star wasn’t just a tree topper,” Huey said, flipping through his guidebook (which at this point had so many notes and post-its that the poor thing really only made sense to him). The Christmas Star had already been included in the JWG from the beginning, but Huey didn’t mind adding his own additions and information as they went along.</p>
<p>“It’s said that sometime between December eighteenth and December twenty fifth, nine wise men were led out of the forest by a star of some sort. They had been lost for months, always getting turned around thanks to the heavy mist, but a star-which no one else saw might I add-led them out of the forest and all the way to their home in Lambelham. Astrologists insist that the story doesn’t make any scientific sense, but many people have theorized that it could be that you can only see the star from the forest!”</p>
<p>“Blah, blah, blah,” Louie said, rolling his eyes, “it doesn’t even sound like there’s a way to get the star. What’s the point if we aren’t going to get anything out of it?”</p>
<p>“I’m sure Scrooge has a plan in order to get the star!” Webby exclaimed, “If anyone can do it, it’s Scrooge McDuck!”</p>
<p>“I want to know about this fog,” Dewey cut in, pointing at the book’s drawing of a small, grey wisp with red words next to it reading: Danger! Stay away! “What’s so bad about it? Is it poisonous? Deadly? Ooo, does it give you horrible nightmares?”</p>
<p>Huey shrugged, “no one knows. There’s no record of anyone going back to the forest after this, and I’m pretty sure people were told to avoid it. The place is called Lost Forest.”</p>
<p>Louie snorted, “could they be more unoriginal?”</p>
<p>The kids all laughed, letting out little snickers and giggles. It really wasn’t that funny-and they knew this-but knowing how heavy some adventures could get, and how heavy the last few months had been for them, they would take what they could get.</p>
<p>The adults found themselves smiling at the little scene, recalling adventures long in the past. Donald and Della shared a glance-one only parents could really understand-and shared soft smiles. Those were their kids, and it was good to see them all smiling.</p>
<p>Scrooge was reminded of when Della and Donald were children, accompanying him on ‘business trips’ whenever Hortense sent them over (and after she had died). The twins had spent several moments just laughing together, talking about whatever had been important to kids at the time. He missed those days, things had been so much easier.</p>
<p>“Uh, guys?”</p>
<p>Everyone turned to where Launchpad was looking out the windshield, eyes widening significantly as they moved closer. In front of them was what looked like a wall of snow, falling so heavily that it could very well be considered a blizzard.</p>
<p>“Oh my god,” Della whispered, eyes filled with a dangerous wonder.</p>
<p>“We can’t fly through that! It’ll destroy us!”</p>
<p>Huey nodded, “Uncle Donald’s right, we have to turn around! If there’s any chance that there’s hail, the JWG says it could cause severe damage to any kind of metal!”</p>
<p>“Isn’t the whole plane made out of metal?” Louie asked, voice cracking with panic.</p>
<p>“Lass, you’ve got to turn around!”</p>
<p>“I can make it!”</p>
<p>Donald’s eyes widened, his mind flashing back to when his sister had said the same thing ten years ago. Instead of snow though, it had been meteors in the deadly vacuum of space.</p>
<p>“Everyone relax,” Launchpad said over the intercom, causing everyone to tense at the familiar message, “we’re about to crash.”</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Della missed the actual crash.</p>
<p>See, instead of screaming along with the rest of her family because they were about to crash while the plane was being pelted with hail, Della was… well she wasn’t really sure. All she could focus on was the thundering of something hitting metal, and her hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, and her brother screaming and her Uncle yelling her name-</p>
<p>‘No! Your family needs you Della, you have to push through!’</p>
<p>Sucking in a deep breath, she closed her eyes tightly and tried to focus on the world around her. As they plummeted her stomach flew upwards, and Della found herself covering her head with her hands, letting out a loud scream. Unlike her crash in space, there was gravity here, and while that helped push her away from the past it did nothing for the terror in her bones.</p>
<p>The first thing she felt was the cold.</p>
<p>It was freezing, the kind of cold that made your body numb and consumed your mind. Her teeth had begun to chatter, and Della had to pull her arms to rip her hands from their grip around the wheel. Against her better judgement, she peaked an eye open, looking around as she tried to assess their situation.</p>
<p>It wasn’t good.</p>
<p>They had apparently crashed into a lake, and thanks to all the hail there were holes ripped into the sides of the plane. Water was slowly filtering in, and considering it was already ankle deep… Della figured they didn’t have much time before the Cloudslayer was the Lakeslayer.</p>
<p>Looking to her right, she felt her breath catch. Launchpad was slumped over the steering wheel, forehead right against the dashboard. There wasn’t any blood (as far as she could tell), but Della didn’t have a good feeling. </p>
<p>‘If Launchpad’s hurt, what happened to everyone else?’</p>
<p>“Lass?” </p>
<p>Della spun around sharply to see her Uncle struggling to his feet, his cane and hat nowhere to be seen. His usual red coat was drenched in water, and Della could’ve sworn she heard his teeth clattering.</p>
<p>“I’ve got him,” Scrooge said, gesturing to the pilot splayed out over their cracked dashboard, “you get the kids.”</p>
<p>Nodding, she began to wade her way through the water, which had somehow already risen to her knees. The cold was mind-numbing, and Della had to resist the urge to just lay down and sleep. At least space hadn’t been bone-chilling like this.</p>
<p>She found the kids huddled together next to the opposite wall of where they’d previously been standing, all shivering from the freezing temperatures. The water was already to their stomachs, and Della could just barely see Huey’s arms wrapped around his sibling’s sides protectively.</p>
<p>‘Where’s Louie?’</p>
<p>She didn’t have time to think about it though, because Huey had already spotted her. The eldest triplet’s eyes were filled with fear, betraying his true feelings despite the strong face he was attempting to show. Dewey was crying silently next to him, eyes glazed over in shock. Webby was aware at least, but she seemed overtaken from the cold (she had worn a skirt, and her legs were covered in ice cold water), shaking so hard she was practically vibrating.</p>
<p>Quickly pushing her way over to them, Della found herself going into ‘Mothermode’. A term she had created for her more… maternal feelings that she gained after getting off the Moon.</p>
<p>Picking up Dewey in one arm, Della quickly wiped away his tears and placed him on her hip, pulling the side of her jacket over his body. She did the same with Webby on the other side, Huey helping her adjust. The eldest child didn’t complain about her not picking him up, simply grabbing onto the fabric of her shorts and swimming (the water was too high for him to walk) at her side while she waded through to the back exit.</p>
<p>All her worries, all the memories that had been itching at the back of her mind, they all disappeared as she stumbled along with her children. Because nothing (not the cold, not the rising panic in her chest, not the awful memories that threatened to pull her under) mattered more than protecting her babies and keeping them safe.</p>
<p>“We’re almost there kids,” Della promised, glancing behind her quickly to make sure Huey was still there, “just hold on a little bit longer okay? I promise we’ll be alright.”</p>
<p>She wasn’t sure if she could keep that promise, but she had to try. After all, nothing stops Della Duck! Not even a deadly plane crash and a killer blizzard. Maybe, she admits to herself, if she had been alone things would be different. But like every Duck member before her, Della would protect her family with her life.</p>
<p>‘Come on Della!’ She thought, ‘it’s right there!’</p>
<p>When she got to the lever to open the hatch, a problem arose that she really hadn’t thought about before. None of them could open it. Della’s arms were still full, Dewey was still completely out of it, Webby was still shaking like a leaf, and she could see the way Huey’s eyes were beginning to glaze over.</p>
<p>“W-Webby h-h-honey?” Della chattered, looking over to the poor girl, “can y-you get t-t-the l-lever?”</p>
<p>Somehow, the duckling heard her, beginning to reach for the lever in front of them. She struggled to get a firm grip though, hands shaking so hard that she nearly flipped the lever from the vibration alone. Gritting her teeth, Webby sucked in a deep breath and slammed both hands down over the top of the lever, a loud click indicating the latch beginning to lower.</p>
<p>“Everyone hold their breaths,” Della warned wearily, “and hold on tight.”</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>The wave was unexpected.</p>
<p>Scrooge had been too busy dragging his pilot through the flood to notice the massive wave of water heading his way. The frost growing in his bones hindered too much thought as well, biting into his skin with sharp stabs of cold.</p>
<p>When it hit, all the air was knocked out of him, causing him to gasp as freezing water rushed over him. Launchpad slipped from his grip, getting tugged towards the front of the plane, and Scrooge had to swim with the current as he tried to catch up to his employee.</p>
<p>‘Curse me kilts!’ He thought bitterly, ‘I hope the kids are okay.’</p>
<p>The water was well over his head now, and Scrooge’s lungs burned as he swam. Soon-he knew-he would run out of air, but it seemed unimportant in the face of finding his pilot, his family. Scrooge was immortal, he’d be fine, but the rest of his family wouldn’t.</p>
<p>Luckily, Launchpad hadn’t been washed far. The duck lay motionless against a crate that had gotten caught in the middle of the plane, face eerily calm. Rushing forward, Scrooge pulled the pilot onto his back, gritting his teeth as he made his way forward.</p>
<p>There was a reason people warned against ‘swimming with deadweight’.</p>
<p>Black spots filled Scrooge’s vision as he very slowly moved along, struggling to push forward someone twice his weight. He was strong by all means (he was Scrooge McDuck) but even he had his limits, and apparently pulling deadweight in freezing temperatures was one of them.</p>
<p>‘Come on!’ Scrooge thought desperately, ‘I’m Scrooge McDuck! I can do anything! I am tougher than the toughies, smarter than the smarties, and sharper then the sharpies! I am the richest Duck in the world!’</p>
<p>He would do this, no matter the cost.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>‘Curse me and my insistence on seat belts!’</p>
<p>Was Donald’s first thought when he had finally caught sight of his nephew. He had been struggling through the plane and water for awhile, looking desperately for the rest of his family while he avoided the things his bad luck caused. So far, he had been ambushed by a giant wave, hit in the head by Huey’s guidebook (which he quickly pocketed), and stepped on a random piece of metal that had fallen off the plane shell.</p>
<p>None of that mattered in the face of finding Louie.</p>
<p>The duckling was still strapped into his seat on the side of the plane, the multiple seat belts stuck thanks to them locking (they were designed to do that during a crash). Louie-surprisingly-was awake, thrashing against his confinements and desperately clicking the buttons to loosen the straps. His eyes were wide with absolute terror, and his cheeks were puffy as he held his breath.</p>
<p>Donald was quick to swim over, getting to work on trying to loosen the seat belts right away. The water was freezing, and he could only imagine how cold Louie was trapped in one spot. The duckling shook beneath the leather straps, though Donald couldn’t tell if it was from the temperature or fear.</p>
<p>After the seat belt refused to release for the fifth time, Donald saw red. His kid was in trouble, and he refused to lose him because a stupid seatbelt wouldn’t budge. His grip on the seatbelts tightened significantly, and soon: Snap! Snap! Snap! Snap! Snap!</p>
<p>As soon as he was free, Louie threw himself into his Uncle. Donald could feel tiny hands gripping into his shirt, and he couldn’t help but smile slightly at the image, before immediately frowning again as he remembered what was happening. Louie was probably starting to run out of oxygen, and while Donald had learned how to hold his for a long time in the Navy, he eventually would have to breathe.</p>
<p>Gathering his nephew into his arms, Donald began to make his way to the back of the plane. Louie was luckily rather light, which meant Donald didn’t have to deal with deadweight, but that didn’t make the trip easy by any means.</p>
<p>Losing use of an arm was causing him to go much slower then he would have liked, and the cold seemed to be overwhelming whatever anger may have helped propel him. Louie also wasn’t much help (not that Donald would ever blame him), too paralyzed with fear to genuinely swim or move.</p>
<p>Feeling a tap on his shoulder, Donald looked down. To his horror, Louie’s face had begun to turn blue, the ducklings eyelids threatening to close over glazed eyes.</p>
<p>He had to get them out of here.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Cold was the only thing Huey knew anymore.</p>
<p>Logically, he knew that he needed to stay awake and aware. Falling asleep when his body temperature was so low could only lead to… bad consequences, not to mention the fact that his family was still in danger. What kind of older brother would he be if he fell asleep while his family was suffering?</p>
<p>Another part of him though, was exhausted. He was cold, and tired, and the stress of everything that had happened so suddenly was leaving him emotionally wrecked. Not to mention that he didn’t know where Louie was, and both Dewey and Webby were in bad states that had left them barely responsive.</p>
<p>So Huey didn’t fall asleep.</p>
<p>Instead he clung to his Mother’s shorts and kicked furiously as they headed for the water’s surface. She needed some sort of help dragging three children to the surface, and Huey would provide it while he still could. Muscles screamed at him though, and his lungs burned with a need for oxygen.</p>
<p>Della kicked furiously, trying to force her way up without her arms, and it was all Huey could do to avoid her legs as they came crashing down. To his shock though, it was working. According to the JWG you needed your arms to swim properly, but thanks to the extra force her metal leg provided, Della’s legs were slowly pushing them upwards.</p>
<p>The surface, Huey realized, was much colder than the water.</p>
<p>As his face was blasted with sharp winds and snow, he was reminded distinctly of getting out of the bath when he was younger. It had been back in the houseboat, when he was about four or five, and the triplets had taken baths together still. Dewey had splashed water all over the bathroom again, and Louie had made at least three toy trades over the course of their bath, while Huey had studied the water’s surface as his brother’s moved around.</p>
<p>When Uncle Donald had pulled him out of the bath, Huey remembers being cold, colder than he had ever been before then. It was sudden too, and being as young as he was at the time, he had started crying. Begging to be put back in the water because at least that was warm.</p>
<p>Huey couldn’t cry now though.</p>
<p>Della was already starting to swim for the edge of the lake, and Huey found himself being dragged along by his weak grip around her shorts. His muscles had finally given out, and he found it hard to think of anything other than cold, cold, cold. </p>
<p>“C-c-come o-on,” Della chattered, “w-we’re a-a-almost the-r-re.”</p>
<p>‘Come on Huebert,’ his mind supplied weakly, ‘just a little further, Mom needs you to keep going.’</p>
<p>Huey started kicking.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>When Scrooge finally broke water, his body was close to collapse.</p>
<p>Dragging Launchpad had strained nearly every muscle in his body, and the sudden chill of the air seemed to trigger every bit of exhaustion to seep back into his bones. Part of him didn’t know if he could even keep going, his own body feeling a tad too much like deadweight itself for comfort.</p>
<p>“U-U-Uncle S-Scrooge!” Della called, she was sitting in a little area on the shore where she had apparently moved away the snow. In one hand was the knee connected to her metal leg, which she hugged tightly against her chest. In the other hand, she was hugging Huey, Dewey, and Webby to her side, all of the children looking dangerously close to falling asleep.</p>
<p>Summing up every last bit of energy, Scrooge began to furiously make his way to the edge. Launchpad was still weighing down on him, threatening to pull him under, but Scrooge was too focused on his kids to notice. He needed to make sure they were okay (as okay as they could be anyway) and just assure himself that they were still living and breathing.</p>
<p>Before he knew it he was able to touch the ground beneath the surface, and was dragging Launchpad into the little circle free of snow. Dying grass crunched under his frozen feet, but Scrooge found himself not caring as he flopped down next to his eldest Niece.</p>
<p>Looking around though, Scrooge found his air being stolen all over again. Now that he was closer he could genuinely see just how awful his family was doing. Della’s face was wrought with pain as she clutched her metal leg with shaking fingers, the skin around the metal turning an awful blue shade. Huey’s eyes were glazed over, and he sat completely still, his chest barely rising and falling underneath his soaked polo. Dewey and Webby were in similar situations, both of them deathly still with glazed over expressions.</p>
<p>Two words: Not. Good.</p>
<p>“D-did y-you s-s-see D-Donald or L-L-Louie?” Della chattered, staring out at the lake, where only the very top of the Sunchaser (Cloudslayer!) was visible, “I-I c-c-couldn’t f-find t-them b-b-before.”</p>
<p>Her question was answered with a cough.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>It hurt, it hurt so badly.</p>
<p>Louie’s lungs were burning, heaving as they tried to take in the oxygen he finally had access to. His panic kept shoving it back though, and he found himself coughing as air hyperventilated through him. He couldn’t breathe, he was going to die, he was sure of it.</p>
<p>It didn’t help that his body had finally started to catch up with the situation, and he could feel a sob starting to build in the back of his throat. His whole body felt like it had been thrown through hell and back, and Louie would rather have spent forever with Doofus Drake then go through the pain he was currently feeling.</p>
<p>“Lou, L-Lou, pl-please breathe.”</p>
<p>It hurt, it hurt worse than anything, but Louie forced himself to suck in sharp, icy breaths. He was still crying, and he couldn’t really feel his body anymore, but at least he was breathing. Someone was rubbing his back, patting it each time his breath caught to help knock it loose. Leaning into the touch, he let out a choked sob.</p>
<p>“I-It’s okay h-honey,” ‘Mom’ “let it o-out.”</p>
<p>Louie furiously wiped away his tears, letting his surroundings come back to him. Uncle Donald was behind him, rubbing his back and giving him a look of utter relief. Della-Mom-was sitting in front of him, using one hand to clutch her metal leg and the other to hold his right hand comfortingly.</p>
<p>Behind them Louie could see Uncle Scrooge, the older duck had the rest of the kids curled in at his sides. Behind him lay an unconscious Launchpad, a big bruise forming on the pilot’s forehead.</p>
<p>Sucking in a breath that came back out as a sob, Louie looked to Della, “i-it h-hurts!”</p>
<p>Her face crumbled, tears quickly gathering in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks as she kissed his forehead, “I know honey, I-I’m so sorry.”</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>It took a long time for everyone to calm down.</p>
<p>After Della had started crying, the waterworks seemed to cause a domino effect. Donald had been the next to break down, hugging Louie to his chest lightly as he sobbed in both pain and relief. </p>
<p>Scrooge had broken next, silently crying as he watched the scene in front of him. A part of him was terrified, because his family had almost died because of his stupid mistakes. Hell, they could still die! All because Scrooge had been too greedy again.</p>
<p>Next came Huey, who had been holding back tears since he had resurfaced. He wasn’t very aware of what was happening around him, but he did know that his brother, mom, and uncles were crying, and that was enough to finally break him.</p>
<p>Dewey and Webby were last, both more so crying from the pain then anything that was going on around them. </p>
<p>They sat there until the sun dipped low below the horizon, all of them crying as they watched the plane disappear below the surface of the water. It seemed like the kind of scene to be peaceful in the movies, like an acceptance of the tragedy that had just taken place before them.</p>
<p>It didn’t feel peaceful.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Arsonist’s Dug-Out!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Shelter was their first priority.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>While the hail had long since cleared out, the snow was still pouring down strongly. Considering they were all soaked, and the temperature outside </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>to at least be in the negatives, it was really not safe to stay outside for any longer than they already had.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Scrooge forced himself to his feet, swaying slightly as he did so. As much as he didn’t need his cane, the damn thing was still </span>
  <em>
    <span>useful. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He didn’t have it though, and walking, let alone </span>
  <em>
    <span>standing </span>
  </em>
  <span>on completely numb legs proved to be a tough challenge.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“C-come on k-kids,” he muttered, “let’s g-go find s-s-shelter.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Donald, with an exhausted Louie on his shoulders, started helping Della to her feet. Scrooge could see the way her face pinched as she stood, her entire body convulsing slightly when she tried putting weight on her metal leg.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We need to w-wake up Launchpad,” Donald said, “he could c-carry all the kids while I h-help Della.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How are w-we supposed to d-do that lad?” Scrooge asked, glancing back warily at his pilot, who was still knocked out cold on the ground, “if these t-t-temperatures didn’t wake h-him I doubt a-anything will.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Slap him!” Della hissed under her breath, voice hoarse with strain, “that always g-gets him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Scrooge wasn’t sure how he felt about </span>
  <em>
    <span>slapping </span>
  </em>
  <span>his already injured employee, but without any other options he simply sighed and stumbled his way over to the taller duck. Hopefully, if-no </span>
  <em>
    <span>when-</span>
  </em>
  <span>Launchpad woke up, he would have the strength to take the kids for them</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Slap!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The pilot sat up suddenly, eyes wide as he immediately yelled out “I’m awake!” Looking around though, his momentary shock soon melted into grim confusion. Scrooge sometimes forgot the duck </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>be serious, but he was thankful for it now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“C-can you walk lad?” He asked, lending a hand to Launchpad, who took it as he struggled to shaking feet, “I need y-you to take the k-kids while Donald and me h-help Della, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You got it Mr. McD.” The sentence lacked its usual enthusiasm.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dewey was </span>
  <em>
    <span>tired.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sitting on Launchpad’s shoulders usually brought him extreme excitement, being able to see so </span>
  <em>
    <span>much </span>
  </em>
  <span>from the high angle. Now? He couldn’t care less if he was honest. His body felt completely numb inside and out, and keeping his eyes open any longer was proving to be its own kind of challenge.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Webby, Huey, and Louie all were wrapped in Launchpad’s arms, legs swinging below them limply as he walked. Faintly, Dewey was worried about how they were all doing, but it was hard to focus on that worry in the face of… everything.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It had just happened so </span>
  <em>
    <span>quickly.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Usually, when they crashed (which was unfortunately common), it was usually in a safe manner that led to no one getting hurt. Now Launchpad probably had a concussion, everyone was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wet </span>
  </em>
  <span>in freezing temperatures, and Dewey was pretty sure his Mom had frostbite if the bruises forming around her metal leg were any indication.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Your fine,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dewey told himself, gripping Launchpad’s jacket just a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bit </span>
  </em>
  <span>tighter as he did so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘you don’t want to seem like a wuss in front of everyone do you?’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Usually the thought was more effective.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The snow was heavier now (how that was possible was beyond him) and the sky was starting to get dark as night inched closer. Dewey hoped they found a shelter soon, but considering he could barely see in front of him… he doubted they would.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Uncle Scrooge, Uncle Donald, and Della were all stumbling in front of Launchpad, close enough to where only part of their bodies were hidden away in the snow. Della was leaning heavily against Donald, head on his shoulder as she limped along beside him. Scrooge stood on her other side, hand on her arm to either stabilize her or himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘I want to go home.’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The thought had crossed his mind multiple times over the last… however long it had been, but none of them were as longing as this. Because somehow, walking in the deadly cold with his family, seemed ten times more terrifying than any plane crash ever could.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Please let me go home.’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Something told him it would be a long time before he ever got that chance again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“There! Right ahead of us!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The cry came from Scrooge, who began to pull ahead slightly. The snow was up to his knees, and it was taking everything in him to not just fall over into the mounting blanket of white. He could see a dark, round shadow just ahead of him, and Scrooge could only hope that it was a cave of some sort.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The wind was strong around them, and Scrooge had to push his way past it as he headed forward. He could tell everyone else was following by the sound of Della’s pained inhales and Donald’s occasional curses.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Oh thank me bagpipes.’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As they got closer Scrooge could make out a small, stone dug-out. It was partially buried in the snow, but he could tell it went back rather far, which would hopefully provide them all with enough room. As he began to push away the snow at the entrance, Donald and Della joined him, and the three ducks were able to gain enough access to the opening in record timing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Della went in first, Donald helping her climb in before quickly following. Scrooge waited for Launchpad and the kids to go first though, because </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>could afford to sustain the cold, they </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Plus, this whole mess had been his own fault in the first place.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The kids went in one by one, Huey watching each of them enter on the side before finally climbing in himself. All of the children still seemed relatively out of it, and Scrooge could only hope that would help spare them the trauma of this whole situation.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After Launchpad, Scrooge climbed into the little dug-out himself, shocked by the sudden </span>
  <em>
    <span>warmth. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It wasn’t actually warm of course, but now that he was out of the blizzard's harsh winds Scrooge definitely felt less cold. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The dug-out wasn’t anything special, but it would do while they tried to figure out how to escape the forest. The cavern was surprisingly roomy, and even Launchpad had some space between his head and the roof. There were also a few logs set in a circle like some sort of campfire situation, and Scrooge sat down next to Launchpad with a hint of shock.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Scrooge McDuck had never believed in </span>
  <em>
    <span>luck, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but right then?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t have been more lucky.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She missed her Granny.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Usually, Webby didn’t think much about her Granny while they were out on adventures. She knew her caretaker could take care of herself, and that she would probably see her in a few hours after they escaped evil’s clutches for the hundredth time. There had never been a reason to miss her before.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now though? Webby wished she had never even </span>
  <em>
    <span>touched </span>
  </em>
  <span>that stupid plane. Now they were all stuck in the Lost Forest, with no way out, in freezing temperatures that would </span>
  <em>
    <span>probably </span>
  </em>
  <span>cause them serious harm.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dewey sat down on one of the logs next to her, his side pressed gently against her’s. Louie held a similar position on her left, with Huey doing the same thing on the youngest duckling’s other side. All of them were freezing cold, and Webby could feel the way Louie’s body shook as it was wracked with harsh wheezing breaths.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Fire,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>Webby thought desperately, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘we need fire.’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Huey seemed to have the same idea, voicing his to the group once Scrooge had settled on a log next to Launchpad, “we need a fire, we can’t-it’s too cold.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ignoring the pang in her heart as his voice cracked, Webby tugged her beanie off of her head and began to dig through the couple of supplies she always carried on her. Things like the band-aids and mini notebook were useless now, but the couple of granola bars, knife, and lighter would all be good tools for keeping them alive.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pulling out the silver lighter (a gift from her Granny for survival purposes), and the knife (a gift from Scrooge surprisingly), Webby quickly handed them off to the woodchuck. Huey was arguably the best at survival out of their entire group-even Scrooge couldn’t measure up-and Webby knew if anyone could get a fire started in freezing temperature it was Huey.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The duckling looked like he had received the best gift in the world when he saw what Webby handed him. Getting down on his knees next to the only unused log, he began to slow cut out long strips of bark. She thought she could hear him muttering something about the JWG as well, but she didn’t mention it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So-“ Louie began, before getting cut off by a cough, “-so what now?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now?” Scrooge asked, looking thoughtful, “well I’m pretty sure we don’t have any signal this far out-if any of us even </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>a phone-and I don’t think there’s any way of saving the Sun-Cloud-the plane at this point. So…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We wait for the Christmas Star,” Dewey cut in, looking up at his great Uncle, it was the most conscious Webby had seen in </span>
  <em>
    <span>hours, </span>
  </em>
  <span>“think about it, this place seems pretty lived in right? And the Christmas Star story said that nine guys were stuck here until Christmas right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So we could just wait for Christmas then!” Della exclaimed, giving her middle son a look of pride, “uh… how far away is that again?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Seven days,” Scrooge said gravely, glancing at Della’s growing frost bite as he said, “I don’t know if-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The body can go three weeks without food,” Huey recited, almost robotically, “three without water. Hypothermia can set in about ten minutes in negative thirty degree weather, and cause death in fifthteen. Frostbite sets in thirty, and hardens in about twenty-four to forty-eight hours.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Our top priority should probably be to find clean water and food, and of course start a fire. But I don’t think Louie or Mom should go outside at all, it’s too risky.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I have never loved your nerdiness more,” Louie muttered.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her leg felt like it was on fire.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Della shouldn’t have been </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>surprised, metal tended to get really cold after all, and the metal was </span>
  <em>
    <span>right </span>
  </em>
  <span>against her skin. That didn’t make it any less painful though, nor did it take away her disgust for the blue bruise-like blisters forming along her skin.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Huey was quickly working up a pile of bark strips, trying to work up enough wood to hold a fire. Della wasn’t sure how conscious he really was though, if the constant stream of survival facts he was muttering to himself was anything to go off of. Though, maybe that was just his way of coping with everything they had just been through.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Della had first crashed on the moon, lost her leg, and realized she had no way of getting home, her only source of coping was </span>
  <em>
    <span>talking. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She talked constantly, to herself, in transmissions to home, to Penumbra when she had met the moon people. Even now, Della found herself talking constantly, trying to ignore the bad thoughts and memories through conversation.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So, as exhausted as she was, Della couldn’t help but be happy to find another similarity between her and her boy’s. It wasn’t enough to make up for… everything, but it gave her something to hold onto at the very least. Just until they found a way home of course.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Louie was leaning heavily into Webby’s side by now, eyes barely open as he fought away sleep. Huey had mentioned hypothermia, and while Della knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>logically </span>
  </em>
  <span>that Louie would probably be worse off if it was actually hypothermia… she really couldn’t be sure. After all, she wasn’t a doctor, and medical stuff had always been more of Donald’s thing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Launchpad at least seemed okay, the bruise on his forehead not seeming to bother him much. The pilot hadn’t spoken since they had come into the dug-out, hands clasped in front of him as he looked down at his feet. Della had never seen him look so </span>
  <em>
    <span>serious, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and it was that abnormality that really made the situation hit her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They were </span>
  <em>
    <span>trapped, </span>
  </em>
  <span>with </span>
  <em>
    <span>no way out, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>limited supplies. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was just like the moon.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tired from fighting away the memories in favor of her family’s survival, Della found herself unable to push them away any longer. Her mouth filled with the foul taste of black licorice, and she felt herself gagging against the flavor. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Della?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She flinched, trying to remind herself that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>on the moon, that it really </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>her brother sitting next to her. The cold helped, burning into her skin and bones, making it easier to focus on the present rather than the past.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Donald squeezed her hand tightly, repeating breathing exercises gently beside her. She didn’t know how long it took for her to come back fully, between her saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I need to get gold, I have to get back, I have to see them!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>and her senses being overwhelmed by </span>
  <em>
    <span>dirt </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>licorice </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>dust, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she had lost track of time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>By the looks everyone was giving her though, she assumed it was a long time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” she muttered, leaning into Donald’s side to ground herself, “I didn’t mean to-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not your fault lass,” Scrooge said gently, “don’t apologize.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘But I was the one who got on that ship.’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Before she could point this out though, Huey let out a loud whoop. He was sitting over a tiny pile of bark strips, a small flame licking at the wood. Holding the lighter with a shaking hand, the duckling slowly lit multiple little flames all around the pile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If this had been any other situation, Della would have assumed Huey was a pyromaniac.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The duckling’s eyes were filled with an excited hunger, red ringing around his iris in a way that only added to the manic look. Della had seen Huey in a similar position before, multiple times even, all when he was overwhelmed with any kind of emotion. She couldn’t even blame him for being upset, they all were starting to reach their limits.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hopefully,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Huey says, with a bit more force than necessary, “this will grow bigger soon, and then it’ll be warm again. That should help the frostbite.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks Huey,” Louie mumbled, moving off of the log to come sit next to his older brother and the growing fire. Webby and Dewey were quick to follow, all of the children seemingly glued to each other’s sides.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Warmth was coming.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Louie wondered if this was how iceberg’s felt in the summer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The fire had finally grown to a moderate size, small flames licking across the wood with a surprising hunger. Huey slowly added more strips as time went on, feeding the flames so the fire wouldn’t die out in the cold.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The warmth that came over them was instantaneous, and probably the most relaxing thing Louie had ever felt in his life. His muscles-tense from the freezing temperatures-loosened, and the blockage in his chest seemed to lessen the longer he was around the flickering flames. It wasn’t as good as the heater in a car, but Louie would rather have the fire then nothing at all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dewey was leaning against him, the middle triplet had finally given into sleep, and had decided Louie was the perfect pillow. Not that he was complaining, right now all he wanted was to be closer to the people he cared about. After all, they weren’t exactly out of the woods yet.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The adults had come to sit around the fire as well, Della still curled up with Donald as she attempted to warm her leg, Scrooge sitting with a sleeping Webby in his lap, the girls legs crossing with Dewey’s, and Launchpad was talking to Huey about… something, Louie didn’t bother to listen in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong </span>
  </em>
  <span>somehow, to be having such a calm moment. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps he should have been used to going from something extreme to immediate calm, but this time was </span>
  <em>
    <span>different. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Every other time the adults were prepared for things to be dangerous, they knew what they were getting into and were ready to go against it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This </span>
  </em>
  <span>wasn’t like that.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He could tell from their reactions that none of them had even known about the blizzard, which just </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be magic, because it wasn’t snowing anywhere else. Not to mention the fact that the plane crashed into a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lake, </span>
  </em>
  <span>which he was sure no one had planned (he hoped so at least, Louie didn’t want to be in a family of idiots). To top it all off, they had </span>
  <em>
    <span>no supplies.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This trip above all others, was </span>
  <em>
    <span>deadly.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” Louie said softly, keeping in mind the brother currently sleeping on his shoulder, “where do we go from here? We’re seven days away from </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed </span>
  </em>
  <span>freedom, and the only food we have is a couple of granola bars.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think we’ll find any kind of food out in the snow,” Donald said, “but I think we can make the granola bars last for at least a couple of days.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘But what happens when we run out?’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If we get desperate,” Huey cut in, somehow knowing exactly what Louie was worried about, “we can eat some of the bark. It doesn’t taste very good, but there’s at least a little nutritional value.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Della joked dryly, “Penumbra will never let me live it down if I eat a tree.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You all should get some sleep,” Scrooge said, and Louie couldn’t help but notice the anxious look in his eyes, “I’ll keep the fire going okay?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Huey hesitated, looking down at the wood strips in his hands. He had never been one to easily give away control, and Louie wasn’t surprised that he was struggling.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw, come on, “ Louie said, his voice teasing, “you don’t think </span>
  <em>
    <span>Scrooge McDuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>can handle a measly fire?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I-I didn’t say </span>
  <em>
    <span>that!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Huey stuttered, quickly handing over the wood to their Great Uncle.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on,” Louie said, rolling his eyes playfully, “let’s go to sleep.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The duckling sighed, crawling over to Louie and laying his head on the shoulder Dewey hadn’t already taken. It was a familiar position, one they had assumed on the couch in the manor at least a hundred times. Louie was apparently a good pillow (“you don’t move very much, and your hoodie’s really soft!”) and his brother’s often abused their free time to cuddle him and watch Ottoman Empire together.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When he got home, Louie was absolutely going to demand cuddles and Pep.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Della was already half asleep against Donald, eyes half-lidded as she slumped against him. It was rare to see them so close together, and Louie half-wished he still had his phone so he could take a photo. Webby probably would have stolen it for one of her photo albums.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll wake you all up in a few hours,” Scrooge promised, “just get some rest would you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, Louie let his exhaustion win-out, letting it pull him under into the world of the subconscious.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Six Days of Christmas!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Launchpad woke up, it was too coughing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rubbing his eyes, the dug-out seemed to shift back into place. Everyone seemed to be in the places they had been when he had first fallen asleep, Della and Donald leaning against each other while they slept, the triplets patting Huey’s back as he diverged into a coughing fit, and a half-asleep Scrooge feeding the flames with a sleeping Webby on his lap. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Wait, what-‘</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Doing a double-take, Launchpad could feel a bubble of anxiety build in his stomach. If the kids were getting sick then that could only lead to bad things, like fevers or strep throat. They didn’t have any way to heal a sickness either, all of their medical supplies had drowned with the plane.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, Launchpad!” Scrooge smiled in his direction, albeit weakly thanks to his exhaustion, “your awake! Do you mind feeding the fire for a bit? I just need to close my eyes for a second…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As he said it, the older duck’s eyes began to slip closed, the need for sleep finally catching up to him. Launchpad carefully extracted the remaining bark strips from his boss’ hand, feeding one to the fire before sitting back in his place. Soon they would have to slice a few more strips, there really weren’t that many left.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, LP?” the pilot turned to look at the middle triplet, who was still curled in on Louie’s side with half-lidded eyes, “are you okay?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Blinking, Launchpad nodded slowly, “of course I am? Why wouldn’t I be?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh I don’t know,” Louie said, in what Launchpad was pretty sure was sarcasm, “maybe because you have a giant bruise on your forehead, and you haven’t talked at all before now?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well the nice thing about getting knocked out,” Launchpad said, feeding the fire another strip, “is that you don’t really remember the knocking-out part.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Doesn’t your head hurt?” Huey asked, “I mean, you must have hit your head pretty hard to get a bruise that bad.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged, “I can’t really feel it? I’ve had worst hits before though, kind of comes with the whole crashing-thing.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The eldest triplet’s eyes widened, “you’ve had worse crashes?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘No, not really.’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>totally! </span>
  </em>
  <span>You know how it is, took a wrong turn one time in the car, rolled a couple of times, caused a ten-car pile up, you know how it is.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Launchpad didn’t know why he was lying, it wasn’t like he was any good at it (Louie </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>saw through him somehow). Maybe to make himself feel better about… almost killing his entire family. Because really, what kind of good pilot can’t crash safely?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Maybe I’m not a good pilot…’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was a heavy thought, one that weighed heavy in his mind every time he almost killed the Duck family. He had always pushed it away with a simple ‘I can crash safety it’s okay!’ each time. But now?.. Launchpad really wasn’t sure what to think now, because for as much as he crashed, he’d never had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>deadly </span>
  </em>
  <span>crash before, not one like this.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Louie eyed him suspiciously, but apparently decided to be merciful as he said, “hey, I think we need some more wood for the fire.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was another few hours before everyone else was awake.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In that time not much had happened, Huey had cut another pile of wood strips, the kids had split a granola bar between the four of them, and Donald had peeked outside to determine that it was about noon.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t believe wilderness survival is </span>
  <em>
    <span>boring!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dewey complained, “are we just going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>sit </span>
  </em>
  <span>for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>week?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine by me,” Louie said, shrugging as he leaned against one of the logs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We could always form a back up plan…” Huey said, “I mean… just in case the Christmas Star doesn’t come?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Webby frowned at the duckling, shaking her head slightly in disbelief, “how? We don’t have any idea where we are, and it’s so cold out there that spending even a couple minutes outside could give </span>
  <em>
    <span>us </span>
  </em>
  <span>frostbite!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well we have to figure out </span>
  <em>
    <span>something,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dewey said, “doesn’t your guidebook have any rules about how to find your way out of a forest?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They weren’t talking about </span>
  <em>
    <span>magical </span>
  </em>
  <span>forests,” Huey said, face falling slightly, “and I don’t… have my guidebook to add any information about it either.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Louie raised an eyebrow, “really? ‘Cause I could have sworn I saw the book in Uncle Donald’s pocket earlier.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The duckling’s eyes widened, before he quickly got to his feet and scampered over to their Uncle. Dewey wasn’t sure what was so special about a book he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>Huey had memorized, but there wasn’t any point in arguing (Huey would never budge on the subject).</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I miss my phone,” Louie complained to the ceiling, “even the trip to Mt. Neverest was more interesting than this.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Webby shrugged, “we could play Never Have I Ever.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ugh, </span>
  </em>
  <span>fine.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve got it!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The kids had been playing games and talking for hours now, the sun dipping low in the horizon as time passed. The adults had been busy with their own problems, like Della’s frostbite only growing worse, and the kids had silently agreed to simply stay out of the way.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Huey-leaning against the log with Louie on his left and Dewey and Webby on his right-had flipped to a page in his guidebook. The object had only suffered </span>
  <em>
    <span>minimal </span>
  </em>
  <span>damages, ones that once he was home would be easily fixed. Something that brought him </span>
  <em>
    <span>extreme </span>
  </em>
  <span>relief.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Got what?” Webby asked, leaning across Dewey to look at the page, “deep-diving?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Think about it,” Huey insisted, not bothering to hide the excitement in his tone, “if we dive into the water and grab pieces of the plane, over time we can slowly rebuild it! Then we can just fly out.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your forgetting a couple of things,” Louie said, holding up a finger for each of his points, “it’s too cold to swim unless we want instant death, the snow and winds would make flying dangerous, let alone if the hail comes back, and we don’t have any tools in order to put the pieces of the plane back together.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Huey muttered, face falling, “yeah, I don’t… I don’t know what I was thinking.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Webby said softly, shooting the oldest triplet a bright smile, “it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>right? That's a whole idea we didn’t have before!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘But the idea doesn’t even work!’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Huey doesn’t mention this though, because Webby is </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying </span>
  </em>
  <span>and that’s enough for him. Sure, the fact that he had little to no control over their situation was driving him </span>
  <em>
    <span>nuts, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but his family was alive and relatively safe. Huey could handle just being happy with what they had right now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Hue?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes Dew?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The middle triplet gently took the guidebook from his hands, flipping through the pages for a moment before landing on a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>familiar page. It was weird to think that only a day ago, they had all been leaning over the same exact page and talking excitedly about their newest adventure, plane crashes and ceaseless cold not even occurring to them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dewey pointed to the image of the mist again, “what happened to the whole mist thing? Didn’t you say they got lost because of the mist?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Huey’s eyebrows furrowed, “I don’t know… I mean, I guess there </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>be mist. Maybe we just can’t see it because of the snow.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Or,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Webby exclaimed, some of her usual excitement filtering back into her voice, “the snow </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>the mist! Maybe it got lost in translation!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘The possibilities of this are endless! We could really be discovering the secret to the Christmas Star!’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Webby?” He asked, “do you have a pen?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Della couldn’t feel her knee anymore.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Originally the pain had been nearly blinding, keeping her awake as it stabbed into her with biting cold. Now? She couldn’t feel the damn thing at </span>
  <em>
    <span>all, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and something told her that was even worse.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That wasn’t even mentioning how </span>
  <em>
    <span>gross</span>
  </em>
  <span> her leg had become overnight. The skin had blackened and blistered over, becoming hard and immovable. The first time she had seen the wound get pinched against the metal part of her leg, Della had nearly thrown up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She was tempted to just cut the rest off. It wasn’t like she had much of that leg left anyway, and thanks to Scrooge’s money she wouldn’t have to worry about the metal replacement being cheap. At least if she lost that part she wouldn’t have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span> at the disgusting wound growing over her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The first day had been surprisingly dull, and while that was probably a </span>
  <em>
    <span>good </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing, she couldn’t help but be disappointed. After all, if she was going to be stuck in this situation, she might as well have a good time right?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But no, the most interesting thing that had happened all day was Donald accidentally biting into a bark strip rather than a piece of granola bar.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Should we be doing more?” She asked her Uncle, who had been sitting next to the fire for most of the day, “I mean, we can’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>sit </span>
  </em>
  <span>here right? There has to be something we can-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There isn’t,” Scrooge said quietly, eyes locked on the small flickers of light in front of him, “we just have to wait things out until Christmas, and then hope this </span>
  <em>
    <span>fable </span>
  </em>
  <span>is real.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It probably is,” Della said, letting out a weak laugh, “it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>the McDuck family.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They both laughed quietly at that, attempting to avoid addressing the question that seemed to be hanging over all of them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘What happens if it isn’t real?’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The second day proved to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>slightly </span>
  </em>
  <span>more interesting.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The first thing Webby noticed when she woke up was that her throat </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her first thought is that she just needed water, but when she grabs a small patch of snow from the entrance, she finds it also hurts just to </span>
  <em>
    <span>swallow. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Which probably meant she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>sick.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She decides to not say anything for the moment. After all, the adults had </span>
  <em>
    <span>far </span>
  </em>
  <span>more important things to worry about, and Webby could handle a simple cold. Sure, it would suck without medicine or proper food, but she had been raised to deal with what she had. She wasn’t a baby anymore, and that meant taking care of herself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>While she waited for everyone else to wake up, she fed the fire and flipped through the notebook she had left in her beanie. The little journal had been pretty waterlogged after the crash, most of the writing illegible, but she found that it didn’t really matter to her. Every adventure she had written about the events of the day into the book, talking all about the different artifacts and friendships she’d gained.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She felt like she had lost a part of herself now that it was ruined.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>No one knew about the journal (not even Lena and Violet), so Webby didn’t know how she could explain the broken feeling in her chest at seeing it’s ripped pages and washed out pen. It occurred to her that Louie probably felt the same way about his phone, which had been brought down to the bottom of the lake along with the rest of the plane.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘At least I still have some of it.’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She wondered what her Granny was doing now, five days away from Christmas. Had she noticed their absence yet? Or would they all come back only to find that no one had even known they were missing, or trapped, or almost drowned in an ice cold lake.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She couldn’t decide whether that was better or not.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Placing the notebook back into her beanie, and pulling the itchy fabric over her head, Webby headed back over to the log the kids had claimed their first night. Dewey slept on the bottom, his own beanie slipping slowly off his head. Huey was curled on his side, head on the middle sibling’s stomach. Louie on the other hand was laying spread out across Dewey’s legs, letting out rasping snores, his snow goggles hanging limply around his neck and the hood of his snow-suit only half-way on his head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Webby noticed then how </span>
  <em>
    <span>lucky </span>
  </em>
  <span>they were that Donald had wrangled everyone into wearing winter clothing. Had they been dressed normally, she highly doubted they would all have gotten away with minor frostbite and coughs. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Very carefully, she worked herself into the triplet pile. The way she positioned herself had her laying down next to Huey, her head resting against Dewey’s lower stomach and the top of Louie’s head. She felt better being close to all of them, safer even. Webby didn’t want to sleep (her throat was too sore for that anyway), but she could never pass up the chance to join a good triplet pile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Who knew how many more she would get the chance to join.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Donald woke up suddenly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was no explanation for it, no sudden noise or issue that could have startled him. This only proved to annoy him, as he slowly sat up and cracked his back. Della was still asleep beside him, face twisted uncomfortably. He couldn’t imagine dealing with frostbite was in any way comfortable.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His stomach clenched uncomfortably, and Donald was sharply reminded how long it had been since he’d eaten a proper meal. They only had three granola bars left, and while he was incredibly tempted to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>eat one, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he forced himself not to. The kids needed it more than he did anyway.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Along with the reminder of their lack of food came an unexplainable </span>
  <em>
    <span>anger. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Donald had always been bad about blaming people for issues fairly out of their control, </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially Scrooge, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and he found himself doing the same thing now despite </span>
  <em>
    <span>knowing </span>
  </em>
  <span>it was an accident.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The Blame Game” as his Father had called it, was another trait Donald had gained from his Mother. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>need </span>
  </em>
  <span>to blame someone when things go wrong, because if no one was to blame then there was no justice or retribution for whatever crime or injustice had happend.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The boys had (unsurprisingly) gained this habit as well, quick to point fingers at each other or others. Donald had gotten dozens of calls home about the issue, but he could never find it in himself to punish them for it. It wouldn’t have been fair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Della still hadn’t been told about the feud, nor the ten years that the family spent apart, so of course she didn’t know Donald had blamed Scrooge for her disappearance. If she </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>know, Donald was positive she wouldn’t be happy with him, just like she wouldn’t be happy if he blamed the old duck now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘So blame Launchpad,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>his mind supplied, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘he’s the one who crashed the plane.’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Donald just sighed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the second day was just as dull as the first.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thanks to hunger and boredom, most of the family simply slept through the day, choosing the pass the hours by simply being unconscious. Occasionally someone would wake up, maybe eat some snow and feed the fire, before immediately curling up again and going back to sleep.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Time failed to have meaning the longer they stayed in the dug-out though, hours feeling like seconds and minutes passing like years. It was hard to make since of much else besides ‘morning, noon, and night’ which left everyone’s schedules to be thrown out of wack.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The adults seemed to agree that dinner (a piece of granola bar really) came when the sky started getting dark, and that bedtime came when they couldn’t see outside any longer. It was a rather flimsy schedule, but no one dared complain. It was the best they had for the time being, so they all would make do.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The third day passed in a simaler fashion, with everyone either sleeping or tending to the fire. There </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>a couple coughs and sniffles shared amongst the children, but if anyone noticed they didn’t say a word of it. All of them hoping if they just didn’t mention it, then maybe the problem would go away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That wasn’t an option on the fourth day.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Louie woke up cold.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His first thought was </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘please not again!’ </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘What happened to the fire?’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>Was his second.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cracking his eyes open, Louie could see the light of flames dancing across the stone ceiling. It must have still been late if it was so dark, and he found himself becoming anxious the more he woke up and gained feeling of his body.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Despite the fact that he was wearing a heavy snowsuit with boots, Louie found himself shivering. The cold was intense (no even close to the water though, </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing </span>
  </em>
  <span>would </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever </span>
  </em>
  <span>measure up to that), and he found himself asking how that was even </span>
  <em>
    <span>possible </span>
  </em>
  <span>when the last three days had passed relatively warmly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had fallen asleep at the bottom of the triplet pile this time around, stuck on his back as Dewey curled into his side and Huey laid his head across Louie’s stomach. Webby laid across Huey Star-fish style, her shoe dangerously close to the eldest triplet’s face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Normally, this would be a fine arrangement, but the more Louie woke up, the more and more he was becoming aware of how hard it was to </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathe. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Small wheezes sounded as he exhaled, and he had to inhale into his mouth because his nose was completely clogged. The added weight of his brother’s on his lungs didn’t help at </span>
  <em>
    <span>all.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Louie opened his mouth to wake up Huey, but all that came out was a hoarse whisper. He froze, hand going to his throat as he tried to talk again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>No dice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Panicking now, Louie felt no remorse for smacking his hand down on Huey’s arm. While the middle triplet probably would have </span>
  <em>
    <span>murdered </span>
  </em>
  <span>him for such a stunt, Huey would be understanding as long as Louie could get him to know he was sick and </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t talk.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Talking was Louie’s whole life, his biggest asset was his big mouth. Conning and manipulating people to get what he wanted, talking his way out of bad situations, all of the things that made him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>him, </span>
  </em>
  <span>were ripped away right along with his vocal cords.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Lou?” Huey mumbled, peaking a tired eye open to look at the duckling beneath him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shoving at his shoulder, Louie tried to get his brother to </span>
  <em>
    <span>get off, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but Huey didn’t seem to get it. The red-clad duckling only eyed him warily, growing more apprehensive the longer he was kept awake.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Lou,” Huey repeated, “what’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But Louie couldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>talk. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He couldn’t explain how awful he felt, or the fear building in his chest, or how much he wanted everyone to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>get off of him. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Without his voice, Louie had </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Apparently the silence was enough to let Huey know </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>was wrong though. Louie was grateful for once that his brother was so perceptive, being able to read him just as well as that guidebook of his.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sitting up, Huey turned to him, “what now?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pointing to Dewey and Webby was all it took now that Huey had put things together. The duckling grabbed both kids by the back of their winter coats, using that to tug them off of Louie. Webby-of course-woke up immediately, hands out in a karate formation briefly before she settled down again. Dewey (ever the hard sleeper) hadn’t woken up at all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Should I go get Uncle Donald?” Huey asked, coming to stand next to where Louie had sat up, “you really don’t look so good.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If he could talk, a sarcastic </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘thanks’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>would have rolled off his tongue.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As it was, Louie just nodded in defeat. If this were back at the manor he simply would have hidden away until the sickness ran its course, but they </span>
  <em>
    <span>weren’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>at the manor. Louie really couldn’t see himself getting better in these kinds of circumstances.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had to admit, he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>scared.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Donald was shaken awake.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Admittedly, the action was familiar. The boys used to do it </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>the time back on the Houseboat. But after everyone had moved into the manor, and especially after Della came back, Donald found himself only being woken in the most extreme of situations. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s wrong Huey?” Donald asked, letting his eyes adjust to the gloom as the duckling began explaining.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Somethings wrong with Louie, I don’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>what </span>
  </em>
  <span>because he wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>talking, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but he looked pretty sick so I just decided to get you because-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sitting up, Huey cut off his own ramble, likely just relieved Donald was coming. Usually if Louie had a nightmare or got sick he would find a way to get to Donald </span>
  <em>
    <span>himself, </span>
  </em>
  <span>so the fact that he told Huey was a pretty big indicator something wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>right.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Walking over to where the youngest triplet was sitting, Donald pressed a hand to his nephew’s forehead. The heat of a fever, while not </span>
  <em>
    <span>surprising, </span>
  </em>
  <span>was concerning.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It looks like you have a fever,” Donald muttered, “can you talk or is your throat too sore?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Louie shook his head, leaning into his Uncle’s side as he did so. Part of Donald was glad that the duckling hadn’t thrown up, the other part was sad because he knew it would be a different story had they had more food.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It hurt, to not be able to do anything while his kid suffered. They had no cough drops, no medicine, no food, basically no water, no </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything. </span>
  </em>
  <span>All in all, they had four sick kids (with one having a raging fever), and no solutions.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Donald was starting to lose hope.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you think we’ll ever get out of here?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The question came from Webby, as the kids sat in a close circle around the fire together. It was late-far later than their decided bedtime-but none of the kids could sleep. Their throats were dry, their noses were stuffed, and they all had migraines that felt like someone smashing a hammer against their skulls.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course we will!” Huey said at the same time as Dewey said “hopefully.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The two brother’s looked at each other, Huey seeming sad and Dewey looking defeated. Louie sat in between them, head on Huey’s shoulder. All three of them had tried to get the youngest duckling to rest, but he had refused, taking his silent spot next to his brother’s. The look on his face remained neutral.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t think we’re going to get out of here?” Huey asked, voice cracking.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dewey shrugged, but his face was guilty, “I don’t know, I’m just trying to be realistic. Louie can’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>talk, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hue, and Mom’s frostbite has only gotten worse. There’s only one granola bar left, what are we supposed to do when it runs out?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,”  the oldest triplet said, face crumbling, “I-I don’t know! Because your right, there’s still a whole two days left before the Star </span>
  <em>
    <span>might </span>
  </em>
  <span>come, and if it </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t? </span>
  </em>
  <span>We can’t handle going off such empty stomach much longer, an-and our colds are only going to get </span>
  <em>
    <span>worse, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Webby wrapped her arms around Huey’s stomach, laying her forehead against his free shoulder. The duckling shook in her arms, choking on silent sobs as he finally let himself </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel. </span>
  </em>
  <span>None of them said anything, there wasn’t anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>to </span>
  </em>
  <span>say. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dewey came around Huey from behind, wrapping his arms around both Webby’s arms and the oldest triplet’s torso. His face was pained by guilt, and Webby wondered just how often Huey </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>cried. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They all fell asleep on the floor together that night.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Scrooge was going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>die </span>
  </em>
  <span>from guilt.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All four of his great-niphews (a term coined by Della that he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>hesitant </span>
  </em>
  <span>to use), were sick, one of them losing his </span>
  <em>
    <span>voice, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and it was all Scrooge’s fault. Not to mention the blistering blackness that had crawled across Della’s leg, hard to the touch and cold as ice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘If I hadn’t taken them on this blasted adventure,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>Scrooge thought bitterly, sitting in front of the fire on the sixth night, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘then the kids would be at home, not sick, playing games and laughing. Della wouldn’t have gotten frostbitten, and she’d be enjoying her second Christmas back from the moon. Launchpad would be in St. Canard with his actual family, and maybe Donald wouldn’t be molting from all the stress of taking care of his children.’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All in all, Scrooge knew this was his fault. Adventures were a family affair sure, but he should have looked into the Star more before dragging his family out. Just because he was immortal didn’t mean he could be </span>
  <em>
    <span>reckless. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He was supposed to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>smarter </span>
  </em>
  <span>than that.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘You ruined Christmas Eve,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>his mind hissed, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘look at you, messing up family, again.’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Scrooge fed the fire another bark strip, feeling drained but not tired. He would let the others sleep, they needed it more than him. The kids had fallen asleep on top of each other as usual, this time with Webbigail on the bottom. He could remember a time when Donald and Della used to do the same thing when Fethry and Gladstone used to come over (as infrequent as it was). Donald would </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>get stuck at the bottom, with Della laying starfish over him, Fethry sleeping on his legs, and Gladstone leaning against Della. It hadn’t been all that interesting to him back then, but now the memory warmed his heart in the most bittersweet way.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When </span>
  <em>
    <span>(if) </span>
  </em>
  <span>they got out of here, Scrooge owed Fethry and Gladstone an apology.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Merry Christmas everyone.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was a sobering sentence rather than a cheerful one, reminding all of them how </span>
  <em>
    <span>long </span>
  </em>
  <span>they had been stuck in their horrible little dug-out. Della had said it because it was customary, but that didn’t mean it came out cheerful.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone had gathered around the fire one last time, faces grim and exhausted. It was the day they had all been waiting for, and the tension was weighing heavy on all of their minds. Even Della couldn’t find it in her to try and cheer them all up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s the plan Mr. McD?” Launchpad asked, the pilot seemed wary, looking drained in a way most had never seen before.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The older duck looked into the fire, for once looking his age, “I’ll stand outside for the day and watch for the light. You all will stay in here and stay safe.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But what about you?” Webby asked with wide eyes, “you can’t handle that kind of weather all day!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Scrooge laughed, “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>immortal, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Webbigail, I can handle anything.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The duckling’s eyes began to water, and her hands formed into fists, “that’s not an excuse to be self destructive!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t have another option,” Donald said grimly, looking just as displeased as Webby, “the rest of us couldn’t last an hour out there.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A tense silence overtook them all at the grim reminder of their situation. For six full days they had spent their time in the dug-out, mostly able to ignore the direness of their situation. Now, as Scrooge cracked his back and made his way to the entrance of their temporary home, they were hit with every problem they now faced, from the killer cold, to the extreme hunger, to the fevers and frostbite.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As Scrooge disappeared out of the entrance, Della turned to the group, eyes tired and drained, “what’s the plan if the Star comes? We’ll have to think of </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Huey raised his hand diligently, as if he were in school, “I… have a plan?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shoot kid.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you can’t walk,” Huey stated to Della, “so I think our best bet if we want to follow as quickly as possible, is for Launchpad to carry you. Uncle Donald can handle carrying Louie and Dewey, and Uncle Scrooge can handle me and Webby. It’ll be faster if us kids didn’t have to try and keep up.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If Della could stand, she would have scooped up the duckling and hugged him. As it were, she settled for a proud smile. It was nice to see Huey coming back into his element, planning in a way Della </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>he could only have gotten from Donald.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds like a plan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Away From Lost Forest!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was late when the Star came.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Scrooge had been walking around the dug-out for hours, in a large circle through the knee-high snow. His legs had long-since gone numb, along with every other part of him that was exposed to the harsh winds and snow of the Lost Forest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had talked to everyone around noon, taking a small break from his endless walk to sit in front of the little entrance. Webby had talked to him the most, showing a concern for his well-being that both warmed his heart and irritated him. Logically, he knew the lass was only worried because she </span>
  <em>
    <span>cared, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but Scrooge knew he didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>deserve </span>
  </em>
  <span>the worry.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After ‘Lunch’ Scrooge resumed his walk.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Spending hours in the cold walking in circles had been mind-numbingly boring, but it also gave Scrooge some much-needed time alone. As much as he loved his family, he was still not used to being surrounded on all sides by people </span>
  <em>
    <span>constantly. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He supposed it was a lot like Della’s need for some space after she came back from the Moon. As much as his niece had desperately wanted to be around people at </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>times, it had overwhelmed her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe that’s just what a decade of isolation does to a person.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When the Star had finally come, he’d almost missed it. So deep in his thoughts that the bright red light cutting through the endless snow hadn’t even made him look twice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After his brain had finally caught up though, Scrooge let out a loud cheer. After </span>
  <em>
    <span>days </span>
  </em>
  <span>of such </span>
  <em>
    <span>hopelessness </span>
  </em>
  <span>they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally </span>
  </em>
  <span>going to escape from their frozen hell. He could get everyone home, and safe, and healthy, and then apologize for </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever </span>
  </em>
  <span>letting this happen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was hope again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s here! Kids come quickly!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Huey heard his Uncle’s yell he’d hardly believed it. It didn’t feel real that </span>
  <em>
    <span>now, </span>
  </em>
  <span>they were coming face to face with </span>
  <em>
    <span>freedom</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and a way </span>
  <em>
    <span>home. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The backup-plans he’d been forming in the back of his mind for days suddenly became useless, but not because they didn’t work, because they weren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But there was no time to hesitate.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone seemed to understand how important it was that they move </span>
  <em>
    <span>quickly. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Losing sight of the Star could mean only bad things, and none of them could afford that risk. Which is why, when Scrooge called into the entrance, everyone immediately stopped what they were doing and began heading for the entrance.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Webby scooped her knife and lighter back into her beanie, before slamming the fabric onto her head and racing outside. Launchpad helped Della climb through the entrance, coming out after here. Donald threw them all into darkness as he used snow to put out their fire, grabbing Louie and Dewey before also making his way outside.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Huey watched the smoke rise from the burnt bark strips for a moment, a weird panicked feeling boiling in his gut at the sight. But soon he followed his family outside, leaving the dug-out that had protected them empty for the first time in days.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Oh my gosh it’s cold.’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The freezing temperatures had obviously been expected, but thinking about something and actually experiencing it were far different things. Even under his heavy coat and boots, Huey found himself shivering against the snow and icy winds around him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on lad!” Scrooge called, holding a shaking Webby in one arm already. Huey quickly raced over as best as he could, having to practically </span>
  <em>
    <span>swim </span>
  </em>
  <span>through the snow that was up to his midsection. To his relief, Della was already being carried by Launchpad in a bridal carry, and Donald had both Dewey and Louie in his arms.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once he got into arms-reach, Scrooge grabbed him by the back of his jacket, tossing him into the air for a second before Huey landed back securely in the old duck’s arms. Without a word all of the adults started off, quickly moving through the blizzard in direction of the red light that was slowly growing fainter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A desperate energy filled the family as they moved, a certain </span>
  <em>
    <span>hope </span>
  </em>
  <span>that they had been missing since they’d crashed. Weaving through trees and narrowly avoiding snow mounds, Huey could hear his Great Uncle’s chest struggling to catch a breath, but Scrooge never slowed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They were going to get through this.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Louie was having a hard time tracking what was going on.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He knew that he was being carried by his Uncle Donald, and that they were out in the cold, but beyond that everything felt like a haze. ‘A symptom of fever’ was what Huey had called it sometime that day after Louie had asked a question twice in the span of a minute.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The wind was biting into his face, making his eyes sting. Snow flurred around them, making it hard to see even without the added addition that it was night. It weirdly reminded him of being in the armory of Cornilus Coot, unable to see clearly what was happening around him but knowing </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>was there.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Of course that had been spiders and not snow, but the principal was the same.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Feeling someone grab onto his hand, Louie glanced over to find Dewey’s hand squeezing his tightly. The middle triplet had his eyes closed, beak whispering some sort of prayer as Donald raced past trees and fallen branches. Louie could only hope the bad luck had decided to take a vacation day.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Donald was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>having a good time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Their situation was just </span>
  <em>
    <span>begging </span>
  </em>
  <span>his bad luck to act up, and he really couldn’t afford to have that happen. Not only were two of his kids in his arms, but the Christmas Star could disappear from their view if there was even the </span>
  <em>
    <span>slightest </span>
  </em>
  <span>delay.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This-unfortunately-meant he had to be extra careful as he went along. The pressure was boiling on all sides, and Donald could only imagine the inevitable meltdown in his future. Having to avoid tree branches, ignore biting cold, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>having to be fast because not keeping up with a light in the distance could mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>death, </span>
  </em>
  <span>couldn’t be good for anyone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Even with their winter clothes (Donald is thankful he did at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>right), Dewey and Louie were shaking ceaselessly in his arms. The youngest triplet at least had the bonus of a full snow suit, but the rest of the family were left to fear frostbite.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Donald hadn’t been this stressed since the triplets were babies.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Della was thoroughly embarrassed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She knew that it was probably an inappropriate feeling for the situation, but she couldn’t help but feel humiliated as Launchpad ran with her in his arms. She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Della Duck, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she had survived on the moon after cutting off her own damn leg! How could she be letting a little bit of frostbite get in her way?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was no time for her to change anything though. She would simply slow everyone down with her limping (if she could even do </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>at this point), and with the Star moving so quickly it was just too big a risk. Huey-of course-had made the right call, as much as Della disliked it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe if this had been sooner after she had gotten back from the Moon things would be different. Della had still been impulsive and reckless then, never thinking anything through before she did it. But now, having almost two years to acclimate back into society, motherhood had helped her gain a patience and logical outlook she otherwise wouldn’t have.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When she had first come back, everyone (mainly Beakley) had thought she was unfit to be a mother, that she wouldn’t take too the position. Admittedly the transition had been difficult, and she made a hundred mistakes, but eventually things just started to </span>
  <em>
    <span>click. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now, she liked to think she was at least an </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mom.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lost in her own head, Della didn’t realize until it was too late that Launchpad was heading in the direction of a mostly-hidden tree root. As his foot came into contact, the pilot fell forward, gravity deciding that it would extend no mercy to the McDuck family.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Della was thrown into the air.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was horrible.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Everything seemed to slow as Launchpad tripped over a root, accidentally throwing Della into the air as he fell. The duck let out a loud yelp as she flew up and then quickly down, landing into a snow mound Donald-style.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Webby lurched as Scrooge came to a stop, legs swinging limply like a pendulum. The cold hardly seemed important as she watched Donald shove Dewey and Louie into a horror-stricken Launchpad’s arms, before hurrying over to his sister. She could only imagine how bad the frostbite would get after this.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pulling Della up from the mound only revealed </span>
  <em>
    <span>another </span>
  </em>
  <span>problem however. The snow mound had apparently been hiding a web of branches, one of which had gotten caught in Della’s metal ankle joint. The Star was starting to get faint once again, and soon they wouldn’t be able to see it anymore.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Della seemed to realize the problem as well, as her face morphed from one of fear to one of </span>
  <em>
    <span>determination. </span>
  </em>
  <span>A cold feeling settled in Webby’s stomach as she watched her kinda-Mom push away Donald’s efforts to pull out her leg and turn to Webby.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Webby, knife me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t want to, because part of her just </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>what Della’s plan was, but there was no time to find another way. The Star was becoming fainter every second, and any other plan would take too much time. With a sigh of defeat, Webby reached up into her beanie and pulled out her knife (maybe it would be more accurate to call it a dagger, considering its length, but the difference had never mattered to her much), before lightly tossing it to Della.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Catching it, Della brought the tool above her head, her face gaunt. She could see out of the corner of her eye Dewey bringing his arm up to cover Louie’s eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Huey also covered her eyes, but Webby could still hear the screams.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Launchpad had never felt so guilty in his life.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>First he had crashed into the lake, getting everyone trapped in the first place. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>then </span>
  </em>
  <span>he </span>
  <em>
    <span>tripped, </span>
  </em>
  <span>causing Della to have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>cut off her own leg, again. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He couldn’t even imagine the kind of pain she was in, some of the fabric of her shorts acting as a shoddy bandage around the stump that was now her leg. To make everything worse, they couldn’t even give her a moment to recover.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After Donald helped her bandage the wound, the duck had reluctantly taken Dewey and Louie back from the pilot, allowing Launchpad to go and pick Della back up in another bridal carry. His gut twisted uncomfortably as they began running again, and he was far more diligent then he probably had to be as they continued.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Della was trembling in his arms, eyes glazed over and breathing shallow. Blood had already soaked through the fabric, starting to trickle down onto Launchpad’s arm. He didn’t complain though, he didn’t have the right to when he had caused such an awful wound in the first place.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Just keep going,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought to himself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘you can make it up to Mrs.D later, just keep going.’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The group had managed to catch up with the light again, the red hue noticeably brighter now. In fact, it seemed the storm and snow was lessening as they went forward, growing less and less strong the further they got.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Before Launchpad even knew what was happening, they were breaking out of the forest and running out into a clearing. The snow came to a sharp stop behind them, the wind with it, and the sudden warmth that came over him was shocking. Even the dug-out hadn’t been as warm.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait!” Scrooge yelled, calling up to a… sled? “Wait, we need help!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The flying vehicle took a sharp turn, and Launchpad was momentarily blinded as the red light was turned to them. Then the light was gone entirely, and as he gained his vision back Dewey asked:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Santa?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dewey could hardly believe it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The polar bear in the sled seemed just as shocked, looking over them with what seemed to be a mixture of surprise and horror. Dewey couldn’t blame him, seeing a bunch of starved ducks and one with a missing leg was probably not the </span>
  <em>
    <span>greatest </span>
  </em>
  <span>sight to come across.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They hadn’t seen the old bear since last Christmas, where Scrooge and Webby had helped save the Holiday, and Dewey couldn’t help but be relieved that it was someone he trusted that was going to save them. As much as he loved adventure and risks, even he needed some security once in a while.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Get in the sled,” Santa said urgently, his tone no where near jolly, “I’ll take you all to a Hospital in a jiffy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Scrooge said, climbing into the sled and holding both Webby and Huey on his lap.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Anything for a friend.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Donald slid in next, moving Dewey so that he sat next to Louie on his Uncle’s lap. The youngest triplet had passed out after Della cut off her leg (from exhaustion or disgust Dewey didn’t know), but he was glad to find that their hands were still connected. He could use any comfort he could get after the week they’d had.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After Launchpad climbed into a seat-a barely coherent Della in his arms-Santa clicked the reins, and the sled flew into the sky. Any other time, Dewey knew that flying in the sled would be an amazing experience, but he couldn’t enjoy it with his Mom bleeding out next to him and his stomach cramping from hunger.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The Christmas Star was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rudolph?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Huey asked, staring at the head of the reindeer fleet, where a much smaller reindeer with a shining nose blazed ahead.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The Christmas Star?” Santa asked, “I haven’t heard that old story in </span>
  <em>
    <span>years. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Some men had gotten trapped in that forest just like you all did, and I had happened upon them on my way to one of my Christmas drop-offs. I even gave them a ride to their home, some town called Lambulham?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If I wasn’t exhausted,” Huey said, voice monotone, “I would be squealing with excitement.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dewey laughed weakly, “you think you’ll get a badge from any of this?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The duckling gasped, eyes brightening slightly at the mention of a badge, “I probably </span>
  <em>
    <span>could!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dewey smiled.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They were going home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
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